Cold when cave was dug in ancient years of man.. shelter from confusion.. things one cannot understand..
Town Square meeting by the cave.. I said ‘hi!’ feeling light.. before my noise hit the air saw something was not right..
As I look through history.. find a hope to spark.. most every time dead reckon there are things created dark..
Left there with a memory.. forgotten by the crowd.. silent inquisition repetition of screams loud..
Come on joy in sunlight.. set in summer plays.. those of feathers.. skin.. furry.. busy in their ways..
Flowers sing.. birdsong rings.. colors splash my scene.. yellows.. reds.. purple wed to sculpted bushes green..
Seconds rush forward with fate.. I on the other side.. flash history a future waits.. sings laughter to the sky..
Thought.. ‘Something should not be made real if the artist knows it cannot stand the light of day.. long ago I realized that most of what I see and experience is a product of someone’s imagination. From this I learned of potential and what I will do with it’.. Peace Tony 🙂